I wake each day from dreams unknown,
A world that chills me to the bone.
The echoes fade, yet still they stay,
Like shadows clinging to the day.
No light can pierce these curtains blue,
No warmth, no peace, no morning hue.
The weight of silence fills the air,
A whispering void, a vacant stare.
What am I here for? What’s my role?
A fleeting breath, a wandering soul?
Each day repeats, a dull refrain,
A cycle spinning, all in vain.
Wake and work, then sleep once more,
Chained to clocks, a hollow chore.
Life drifts by in black and white,
A faded dream, devoid of light.
And yet, the wind still hums its song,
Soft and steady, deep yet strong.
A voice that murmurs through the night:
“Even darkness births the light.”
For though the road seems bleak and bare,
There’s meaning woven in the air.
Perhaps not loud, nor clear to see,
But waiting still—your destiny.
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